Second Chance To Make A First Impression
by LinziDay
Summary: The mission had started out so well.


**Title:** Second Chance To Make a First Impression  
**Author:** LinziDay

**Rating:** PG 13 (for bad language) Gen.  
**Disclaimer: **SGA would make a nice Christmas present if anyone's still looking for something to get me….  
**Author's Notes:** Written for leesa_perrie as part of the Secret Santa fic exchange on LJ. Huge thanks to betas kriadydragon/ Stealth Dragon and wildcat88. Their time and patience were invaluable, their ideas fantastic, and their edits life-saving. Thank you!

**Spoilers:** The Shrine

* * *

Rodney wasn't, John thinks, a normal kid.

Granted, he should have been able to predict that. Rodney The-Smartest-Man-in-Two-Galaxies McKay did not, obviously, grow up making mud pies and building indoor forts with couch cushions. Unless it was a very intricate fort, with reinforced walls and a secret lab. Also, a Batmobile. Rodney's fort would definitely come equipped with a Batmobile.

But still, if he'd had to picture Rodney at, say, age 7, he would have conjured up a semi-chubby kid with sharp blue eyes and a strategically-employed high pitched whine. He would've imagined a boy who was super smart and very stubborn and perhaps just a little afraid to take risks with himself. He would have, most notably, pictured Rodney reading. Experimenting. Generally sitting for long periods of time.

Not — _this_.

"Rodney, get down from there!" John shouts, his voice hitting an embarrassing high note.

Rodney is climbing the side of the gate, small arms pulling and small legs pushing him higher and higher toward the top of the ring. He is halfway there.

John has no idea how he got up there. Hell, he doesn't even know how he got away from Ronon. _Ronon_. The kid's a goddamn Houdini.

"I'm not gonna fall," Rodney calls over his shoulder, another push-pull getting him a foot closer to his goal.

John has to crane his neck to look up at him now. Behind them, the control room buzzes with activity and John catches snatches of it. The techs are trying to find a ladder. Woolsey's calling a medical team. Chuck's frantically working to lock the gate against any incoming wormholes —

Oh, Jesus.

"Down!" John barks, throwing his full command voice behind it. "Now, McKay!"

Rodney freezes immediately, his right hand poised over an Ancient inscription-turned- handhold. He turns to look down to John, eyes wide, and John thanks every god he can think of that somewhere in kid-Rodney the instincts of adult-Rodney still survive.

But then Rodney's wide eyes turn from surprise to amusement. "You called me McKay!" he shouts.

John clenches his fists and resists the urge to call Rodney a lot of other names, none of them appropriate for a child. Instead he says through gritted teeth, "Climb. Down."

"But I'm — "

"Now."

"But you —"

"Rodney! Before the gate activates and you're disintegrated molecule by molecule."

Rodney blinks at him. "Oh."

The medical team rushes in and two techs arrive breathlessly with a ladder just as Rodney sets both sneaker-clad feet on the ground. He's jabbering about wormhole physics and how he wouldn't have been _disintegrated_ exactly, but, yeah, molecules are definitely good to keep together and does John think the mess will have chocolate pudding at dinner?

Then he catches the look on John's face and all childish chatter stutters to a stop. When John leads him out of the gateroom, Rodney goes without complaint. Mostly.

"I didn't mean — " he begins, then appears to think better of it. He clamps his mouth shut and looks at his feet as he works to keep up with the pace John is setting.

"Sorry," Rodney mumbles eventually. Then louder, more sincerely, "It looked fun. I forgot. Won't happen again."

John presses the spot between his eyes where he feels a headache blossom and, not for the first time in the last two weeks, he curses the gift-giving people of M1X-124.

XX

The mission had started out so well. Greetings. Introductions. Trade. Hey, look, an energy signature. Oh, you have a shield. Want it to work better? There you go. No problem. We'll just be on our way now. No, no gift necessary. Just throw in a few of those apple-grape things next time we trade. No, really, no gift. Honestly. Really. We don't —

And then Rodney was 7.

There was more to it, but really, once the elders pushed Rodney into John's arms — asleep, knees tucked to his chest and fist tucked tight under his chin, the hem of his adult-sized t-shirt falling past his feet — John lost all ability to process rational thought.

Luckily, Teyla did not. From the elders she learned that Rodney's… transformation… was their way of showing great appreciation. A reward. The rare gift of a second youth and the chance for Rodney to enjoy now what he hadn't then. It would last one month.

There was no way to reverse it early. The elders looked completely bewildered by the idea anyone would want to.

Part of John wanted to _help_ them find a way to reverse it early, possibly by tearing the village apart with his bare hands. Only the need to get Rodney home and safe made him turn away.

They took turns carrying Rodney on the mile-long trek back to the gate. When John slipped Rodney into Ronon's arms, Rodney sniffled a little but didn't wake. A lock of sandy blond hair fell into his eyes and John automatically reached out to brush it aside. He stopped himself at the last second. This was Rodney McKay, not some anonymous, ordinary child.

"How much will he remember?" he asked Teyla.

"The elders said it is different for everyone."

"Great," John said, shifting his P-90 into position and moving ahead to take point. Rodney had just barely gotten over one forced second childhood. He really didn't need another. "Just great."

They made it back to Atlantis, through the gate chaos, and into the infirmary without Rodney waking up. After blood tests, Earth scans and Ancient scans, Rodney was changed into a pair of fire truck-print pediatric scrubs Keller kept for the Athosian kids and tucked into a corner bed away from the hustle and bustle of the main infirmary. Away but not alone. The team took turns stepping out for post mission exams — one person gone, always two beside Rodney.

When the exams were done, Keller watched them reconvene at Rodney's bedside. She looked uncomfortable and sad, her words soft, carefully chosen when she said, "Children often get scared around strange adults."

John didn't need a super secret Keller decoder ring to understand what she was insinuating. Rodney might not remember them. Might be _scared_ of them.

John opened his mouth to tell her Rodney had been through enough recently — too goddamn much — and whether Rodney remembered or not, they were friends and a team. They'd never walked away from each other before and he'd be damned if they were going to start now.

But Ronon beat him to it.

"Not leaving," he said, crossing his arms for emphasis.

And that was the end of that.

It took another hour before Rodney showed signs of life, shifting under the blanket and making small noises. John and Teyla took up spots on either side of the bed and Ronon hovered at the end.

Rodney came awake rubbing his eyes with his fists and blinking up at them.

"Hey, buddy," John greeted.

"Um," Rodney said, hands hovering in mid-air, as if he might try rubbing his eyes again, just in case it would change what he was seeing. His gaze slid uncertainly from John to Teyla to Ronon, lingering for a moment on dreadlocks and tattoos, eyes going just a little wide, before returning to John. "Hi?"

"Do you remember us?" Teyla asked, resting a hand on Rodney's blanket-covered foot.

Rodney slowly lowered his hands and squinted at them. His mouth was drawn into a frown. "I. . . uh, maybe?"

"We are friends," Teyla said.

"Um," Rodney said again, looking uncertain. So small and uncertain.

John's stomach twisted and he closed his eyes, unable to look at Rodney for a moment. He didn't realize how much he'd been counting on the change being only physical, that Rodney would wake up bitching about his short legs and tiny hands and promising to exact terrible, terrible revenge on the first person who called him "cutie." But this — this was the parasite all over. They'd just gotten him back and now he was gone again.

John took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

"Okay. It's all right," John said, forcing an upbeat note into his voice. He patted Rodney's other foot. "Listen, buddy, we're going to take care of you for the next month, okay? You don't have to worry about anything."

Which was when Rodney raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that was so sardonic, so patently _Rodney, _that John's stomach twisted again. "Yeah," Rodney said, doubt and sarcasm clear even with the little boy pitch. "Right."

XX

John radios Ronon on the way to the mess to let him know he's got Rodney, all molecules still exactly where they should be.

"Sorry, Sheppard," Ronon says, and John can picture the big guy shaking his head in defeat. "I don't know how he got away from me."

John glances down at Rodney, who, for the first time, is fiddling with the broken LSD John had given him almost two weeks ago. John thinks of all the things he could say to Ronon. "_I told you it would happen," _and "_That's why I didn't want to leave him," _and_ "You and Teyla are wrong."_

"It's McKay," John says finally. He means it to be an explanation, but it comes out sounding a lot like a plea.

Beside him, Rodney stays quiet

Rodney's still not talking when they reach the mess hall, not even when they pass the chalkboard menu listing both macaroni and cheese and chocolate pudding for dinner, his favorites.

"Hey, buddy," John says, pointing it out. Rodney looks up from the LSD, shrugs slightly, nods a little and goes back to work. John loads his tray anyway, including extra pudding as a peace offering. He worries they'll end up in the infirmary if Rodney won't eat.

But even if he doesn't chatter, Rodney does at least eat once the macaroni and cheese is in front of him at the table.

Watching Rodney, the adrenaline completely bleeds from John's system and he realizes how exhausted he is. Sitting reminds his body that he didn't actually catch that nap he was supposed to while Ronon was babysitting. He slumps in the mess hall chair and does some basic math in his head while Rodney eats. It's been 16 days Atlantis-time since M1X-124. The planet's days were three hours longer than Atlantis'. The elders said Rodney's transformation would last a month, assuming a month M1X-124 time, so that means Rodney has —

"John? I'm done."

John blinks. Rodney's slumped in his own chair, eyes cast down to the LSD sitting on his lap. John glances at Rodney's dishes.

The macaroni and cheese is only half gone. The pudding is still all there.

XX

John had gotten Rodney by default that first night.

Keller didn't want to keep him in the infirmary and Rodney, wary of needles, certainly didn't want to stay. Teyla had Torren, and while she was perfectly willing to take Rodney in for the night, John didn't think it was fair to ask. And Ronon — well, Rodney seemed more than a little intimidated by Ronon.

So John sent them off to bed, told them he'd handle it. And he would. And if he couldn't look at regressed-Rodney without something wrenching in his gut? Well, he'd dealt with that before.

"How about it? Want to bunk with me tonight, buddy?" John asked, picking through the box of children's clothes Keller kept for off-world emergencies and Wraith-ravaged refugees. Rodney could sleep in scrubs, but he'd need real clothes tomorrow.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Rodney was sitting cross-legged, above the covers. He had been peering into the box with mild interest. Now he was looking at John.

"Calling you what?" John glanced at Rodney, then focused back on the box. Clothes were normal. Clothes were easy.

"'Buddy,'" Rodney said. "You keep calling me that."

"We're friends," John said. He pulled out a pair of sweatpants, decided they were too small and tossed them back. "Friends call each other buddy. Pal. That kind of thing."

"But not my name?" Rodney said suspiciously.

John froze, a toddler's t-shirt in one hand and a pink jacket in the other. Crap. _Crapcrapcrap_. How old was Rodney when he stopped going by Meredith? He didn't want to use the wrong name and risk losing what little trust he had here.

"Well," John said carefully, "Meredith Rodney McKay — "

"Meredith!" Rodney sounded as if he were choking on the word. "No, no, no."

"Rodney."

"Yes!" Rodney said, relieved.

For a second, John looked at him and saw the best friend he could never resist winding up. "But why?" John asked, his voice sickly sweet. "Meredith is such a pretty name."

Rodney's scowl was murderous.

"Okay then." John fought the grin that twitched on his lips. "We'll stick with Rodney."

"Good." Rodney eyed him, assessing. John recognized that look, too. It was the same one Rodney gave to new scientists just before he predicted which ones were going to crash and burn.

John turned back to the box. He snagged a pair of jeans and a faded black long-sleeved t-shirt with "Star Wars" emblazoned across the front. He dug around and found a pair of old red sneakers with a new pair of socks tucked inside. Everything looked about the right size. Maybe. Shit. He really had no idea.

"Rodney," John said, "how about you — "

"Buddy."

John looked up. "Buddy?"

Rodney shrugged, stiff as he tried to force nonchalance. "You can call me 'buddy.'"

Huh.

John nodded slowly, as if considering the offer. "Okay," he said. "Good to know."

John tossed the clothes on the bed. Rodney picked up each piece and examined it with a critical eye. At the Star Wars shirt Rodney's eyes lit up and he grinned, wide and bright and completely unselfconscious. John grinned at Rodney's grin.

And in that instant John could suddenly picture how potentially not-horrible the next month might be. He could teach Rodney how to cut loose, have fun, be a kid. Maybe swim. Possibly surf. Definitely skateboard. They could gorge on video games and Star Trek episodes and all the best sci-fi movies that adult-Rodney loved and kid-Rodney hadn't yet seen. (And if John happened to pop in a Back to the Future DVD and casually mention that DeLoreans are _super cool_? Well. They are.) And flying. John could take him flying. His first jumper ride, a view of Atlantis from the air.

Rodney would love it.

XX

Rodney doesn't say anything after dinner. He works on the LSD as they walk back to John's room and then curls up on the bed. Before John can say anything he's asleep, clutching the Ancient device to his chest like a teddy bear.

XX

Word of Rodney's transformation sped through the city that first night. Strange things happened in Atlantis, and once you'd seen your military leader turned into a bug, your Chief of Science with super powers and your head of medicine back from the dead via clone, a mere 7-year-old wasn't a soul shattering shock. But it was the first time an expedition member had been turned into a kid (Please, God, don't let there be a second time). Everyone was curious.

Rodney accepted the attention cautiously at first, then with pleasure. He was completely won over by Radek, who showed up at John's door with a chocolate bar and a promise to teach Rodney all the good Czech curse words when John wasn't around. Rodney was oddly, almost scarily, respectful of Woolsey, who welcomed him to the city with a solemn handshake. Rodney laughed at Lorne's knock-knock jokes.

At breakfast he asked Teyla endless questions about her baby and marveled at Ronon's ability to stuff four rolled-up pancakes in his mouth at once. But it was John who Rodney stuck to.

"I am sure Torren would enjoy meeting you," Teyla said as they cleared their breakfast trays from the table. "Perhaps you would like to come see him this morning?"

Rodney suddenly backed up a step, pressing closer to John. "Um?" he said. Then nothing.

Over Rodney's head, Teyla gave John a look of concern. But Rodney — kid-Rodney — had been there for less than a day, had suffered through a strange place with strange people, and John wasn't inclined to push him. He answered Teyla's concern with a small shrug.

"Maybe some other time, huh, buddy?" John said, resting one hand on Rodney's shoulder and taking his tray with the other. "We have important things to do today."

"We do?" Pause. "Yes! Yes, we do."

John said goodbye to Ronon and Teyla and, with a hand still on his shoulder, steered Rodney out of the mess hall. He wondered whether Rodney would rather go skateboarding or swimming or —

"Radek!" Rodney shouted when he caught sight of the Czech scientist in the hall. "We're on our way to do important things."

"Ah, yes?" Radek said, serious but with the hint of a smile. "So am I."

With Rodney out for a month, John was sure Radek's list of "important things" had just quadrupled.

"I bet ours are more important than yours," Rodney said, puffing out his chest.

"Oh? What are you doing?"

John wanted to hear this, too. Maybe it'd give him some more ideas.

"One, the shield," Rodney said, counting on his fingers. "Two, the water purification system, because microbes, yuck. Three, the sensors, but only if we have time today because they aren't —"

"Rodney." John felt a chill run up his spine. When Rodney hadn't recognized his team, they'd assumed he hadn't remembered anything. Now he was ticking off Atlantis' engineering chores on his fingers.

Rodney stopped mid-list and looked up. "What?"

XX

It's Rodney's scream that wakes him.

"Sheppard!" Rodney yells as he thrashes through a nightmare. "Sheppard!"

John crosses from couch to bed in three quick strides, but it isn't quick enough. Rodney twists in his sheets and screams again, "Sheppard!"

"Hey, hey, I'm here," John says, even though kid-Rodney has never called him anything but John. He works to untangle the covers even as Rodney — still asleep and in the grip of a nightmare — kicks and fights the blankets with such intensity that his hair is damp with sweat.

John gets him free just as Rodney wails, "Nooo!" and curls into himself. In the moonlight, John can see him trembling.

"Rodney," John says softly, shaking his shoulder a little. When that doesn't work, he says it more loudly, shakes him a little more forcefully. It takes a long moment, but blue eyes finally open to meet his.

"John?" Rodney asks. He sounds tired, confused.

"Hey. You okay?"

"Bad dream," Rodney says.

"You want to talk about it?"

"No." Rodney's eyes slide closed again and he says nothing more. When John's all but certain that Rodney has drifted off, he gets up to return to sleep on the couch.

Rodney's voice, small and thin and mournful, drifts to him in the darkness. "A really bad, bad dream."

It's the first nightmare Rodney's had as a kid and John wonders if he's remembering his transformation on M1X-124. Or something earlier, like the parasite. Or, hell, one of the million other missions-gone-wrong.

Too many options. Too many times that shouldn't have happened, all on John's watch.

"It's okay, buddy." John settles on the floor beside the bed. It's hard and cold, but he will deal. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere."

Rodney opens his eyes again and looks at John for a long, long moment. Then he goes back to sleep.

XX

After more testing and a lot of questions, they came to three conclusions about Rodney's condition: His past was a blank slate, providing no memory of anyone, family or friends. He understood PhD-level engineering, physics and astrophysics concepts the same way he knew how to tie his sneakers — innately and with a shrug — but the math got completely jumbled in his head. He remembered Atlantis, or at least his duties on Atlantis.

Still, it was pretty easy to convince Rodney to give up on the water purification system once John showed him the skateboard.

"So staying on, it's just like physics?" Rodney said excitedly, trotting beside Sheppard on their way to the pier. "Force and friction and center of mass."

"No." Sheppard paused. "Well, yes. But skateboarding is about more than just staying on. It's also about going fast."

"That's physics. Velocity and acceleration," Rodney pointed out.

"And doing really cool jumps."

"Torque and rotational inertia."

John gave him a sidelong glance. "And defying gravity."

Rodney gasped in awe. "You can't do that!"

Sheppard grinned. "Can."

It was a bright morning, warm, with a gentle breeze. When they stepped out onto the pier, Rodney lifted his face to the sun and frowned a little. "We have to be outside?"

"Biggest open space we have." John dropped the board. "For this."

John kicked off and rolled down the pier. It had been a long time since he'd done anything extreme on a board, so he kept it simple — a jump, a flip, a quick aerial. He spun, sped back to Rodney and ended, just a foot away, with a mid-air double flip.

Rodney's jaw dropped. "You have to show me how to do that."

John nudged the board over so it bumped up against Rodney's sneakers. "I dunno. Sure it's not too sunny out here?"

Eyes on the board, Rodney shook his head emphatically. "What sun?"

John showed Rodney the basics of balance, gravity and speed. The first time he kicked off, Rodney wobbled and fell. John moved to help him up, but Rodney waved him off.

"It's okay. I got it now," Rodney said and hopped back on.

John opened his mouth to tell him it'd take more practice, that maybe by the end of the month he'd be able to stay on the board and even —

Rodney rolled past him.

Knees bent slightly, arms out a little, Rodney kept his center of gravity low, his body tilted to angle the board in the right direction. At the end of the pier Rodney hopped off the board, picked it up and turned it around. He kicked off and started back toward John.

Okay, so they hadn't gotten to the lesson on pivoting yet. Still, John marveled. Rodney looked like a natural.

When Rodney reached John his face was flushed, his eyes bright with the adrenaline rush. He looked elated. John had to admit the elders on M1X-124 might have been onto something. This was the happiest, most carefree he'd seen Rodney in years. No, strike that. This was the happiest, most carefree he'd seen Rodney _ever_.

"Fun?" John asked, as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Fun!" Rodney agreed. He was a little out of breath but beaming. "Hey, you said there was other stuff to do around here, too. Besides the shields and sensors."

"Sure," John said, eager to encourage Rodney's newfound excitement. "Swimming, surfing, camping on the mainland. Video games. Flying in the jumpers —"

"The jumpers!" Rodney exclaimed as if he'd just rediscovered a favorite toy.

"I'm sure we could work up a game of hide and seek." John thought of the extra pallet of medical gloves that had arrived on the Daedalus' last resupply mission. "Or maybe something with water balloons."

"Yes!" Rodney bounced up and down with the kind of energy that normally meant he was heavily caffeinated and facing the prospect of a charged ZPM. "All of it! All of it!"

"Skateboard first?"

Rodney nodded enthusiastically and hopped back on.

John showed him how to angle the board and pivot, how to turn and keep going without losing speed. Rodney took in the instructions with concentration, and then he took off on the board.

John watched him go. For the first time since Rodney's transformation, he felt the coil around his gut loosen. This might actually be okay. Rodney might be okay.

Which was when Rodney hit a bump in the pier and went flying — head first into the water below.

XX

After the nightmare, Rodney whimpers in his sleep. It's soft and it's sad and it tears John's heart apart every time he hears it.

"It's okay, buddy. I'm right here," he whispers from his place beside the bed.

If anything, it seems it make things worse.

XX

John had seen Rodney get hurt before. Dozen of times. Hundreds. Hell, he'd held Rodney's head still while Keller performed brain surgery on him. In a cave. With _power tools_.

But it was the sight of kid-Rodney in the infirmary that made him sick.

Rodney was sleeping, pale and slight in the infirmary bed. He had a concussion from hitting the rocks under the water. His wrist was sprained. A bruise stuck out stark on his cheek, but John knew he had others on his shoulder, chest, and shin as well.

John watched Rodney sleep from the doorway. He tried very hard not to punch a hole in the wall.

He had done this to Rodney. He had failed to protect him on M1X-124, and when Rodney suffered the consequences, John encouraged him to put himself in more danger.

Not anymore. Dammit. Not anymore. Rodney was his responsibility and John was going to make sure he stayed safe, especially while Rodney —

"John?"

John's head snapped up. Rodney was awake and looking at him.

"Hey, buddy." John crossed to the bed. "How're you feeling?"

Rodney shrugged a little then winced. "Headache."

"Yeah, you're going to have that for a little while." He started to move away. "I can go get Keller, though, see if she can give you — "

Rodney caught John's arm with his good hand. "Wait!"

John stopped, turned back to the bed. "Pills, no needles," he promised.

"No!" Rodney said derisively, then seemed to think better of it. "I mean, yes, pills. Not a shot. But no, I wanted to know — " He hitched himself to sit upright, eyes bright and excited. He pulled John closer. "— when can we do the skateboard again?"

XX

When John wakes, he's cold and stiff from the floor, and his neck aches from the odd angle he fell asleep at.

Rodney is gone.

XX

Rodney didn't like John's ban on skateboarding.

"But I'll be careful," he said as they had breakfast. "It's fun!"

"It's too dangerous," John repeated.

"But you saved me. I didn't even drown a little."

"No, you just got a concussion," John said dryly. But his sarcasm was lost on Rodney, who brightened and said, "Yeah! See?"

"Rodney. Concussions are not good. Concussions are not minor, especially at your age. They can affect your brain. _Your brain._ You like your brain. You need your brain."

"Can we go surfing then?"

Like skateboarding on water. With waves. And possibly sharks that would consider Rodney in his current form a nice bite-sized snack.

John suppressed a shudder. "I don't think so."

Rodney looked at him incredulously. "Swimming?"

Sharks. Bite-sized snack. "No."

"Camping? Hide and seek? Water balloons?"

Wolves. Ancient monsters. Another concussion. "I don't think so."

Rodney let his fork fall to his plate with a clang, waffles forgotten. He sat back and stared at John. "Then what can I do?"

John took out the LSD he'd snagged from the lab before fetching Rodney from the infirmary. A nice, safe LSD. "It's broken," John said. "You could fix it."

Rodney's eyes flicked to the LSD. Rodney had always been drawn to cool Ancient gadgets before, had always been drawn to _work_ before, and John was counting on that now.

Rodney didn't touch it.

"It's fun," John prompted.

Rodney looked at him.

"Better than skateboarding," John promised. "No concussions."

XX

John finds Rodney on the balcony, hunched in the far corner. The weather is mild, but Rodney is wearing only the thin, short-sleeved fire truck scrubs he's been using as pajamas. His toes are curled, protesting the cool metal of the balcony. His bare arms are tight to his body.

He's working on the LSD.

XX

The first time Rodney went missing, John panicked.

He'd woken up to find the bed empty, the bathroom empty, his balcony deserted. John tore through the room looking for his radio. He needed to call someone_. Everyone_. God. He'd only had Rodney for three days and had already given him a concussion and now lost him.

Rodney wasn't with Radek. He wasn't in the mess hall either, or the infirmary. Keller hadn't seen him. Teyla hadn't seen him. Ronon —

"Yeah, I got him," Ronon said over the radio. He sounded puzzled at John's alarm. "Gym."

The gym. Adult-Rodney had to be cajoled, threatened and forced into the gym. John couldn't imagine what kid-Rodney would be doing there. At 8 a.m. With Ronon. Unless —

Ronon had knives. Many knives. Many knives _and_ a blaster, and he'd been making noises about showing Rodney how to defend himself. Crap.

In the gym he found Ronon sans knives and blaster, but with Rodney — who was shouting, "Rah!" as he flipped an imaginary opponent to the ground using his still-wrapped sprained wrist.

"Hey," John said, and Rodney froze.

"Uh, hi," Rodney said after a second, straightening.

"Sorry, didn't know you'd be worried," Ronon said. "Found him in the hall. He looked bored, so — "

"Listen, guys," John interrupted, "I just don't think this is a good idea, okay? His wrist is still healing and stuff."

He took Rodney to breakfast and then to the lab, where they picked up a tablet with the water purification system specs. John thought Rodney might like to take a look at them.

The second time Rodney went missing was a lot like the first. Empty bed, empty bathroom, deserted balcony. John panicked.

But this time Rodney wasn't with Ronon.

He was with Teyla, who was getting ready to head to the mainland.

"I thought he would enjoy playing with the other children there," she said.

John shifted uncomfortably. It was one thing to say no to Ronon — it was another to say it to Teyla. "I don't think so."

Teyla raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Well, you know, jumpers crash," John said. When Teyla didn't say anything he plowed on. "They do. They crash all the time. You get an inexperienced pilot and —"

"You could pilot us," Teyla suggested. And oh, yeah, that would be so much better. _He_ could crash the jumper.

"It's not just that," John said. "Kids get sick and pass it on to other kids. Rodney doesn't have immunity to the same diseases the Athosian kids have."

"Dr. Keller said — "

But Teyla's words were lost to the closed door as John backed out, a hand on Rodney's shoulder to take him with him.

"But I wanted to go," Rodney protested when they were in the hall.

"How about chess instead?" John offered. "A video game?"

Rodney crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sick of chess and we've played all the video games."

"Okay. Let's go see if Radek's got a project he can —"

"No!" Rodney shouted. "It's not fun. I want to do something _fun_."

John stopped and knelt down. "Buddy, I just don't want you to get hurt."

Rodney blew out a puff of air in exasperation. "I'm not gonna get hurt!"

"You have before," John said. It came out more quietly than he meant.

"Skateboarding? But that was days ago!" Rodney sat on the ground with a huff.

John sat next to him. He nudged Rodney's shoulder with his. "Hey, you wanna hear a story?"

Rodney looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "No."

"You sure? It's a good story."

"No," Rodney said again, this time with scorn.

"Too bad. I'm going to tell it anyway."

They had talked about this — the team, Keller, and Woolsey. Without a child psychologist on staff — or any psychologist, since Heightmeyer's replacement hadn't lasted — they were flying blind here. Keller and Woolsey were against telling Rodney what had happened to him. Teyla and Ronon were for it. John had reserved judgment then. He didn't now.

"Once upon a time, a man named John Sheppard had a best friend —"

"'Once upon a time!'" Rodney scoffed.

"Yes," John said. "Once upon a time, otherwise known as last week. . . ."

XX

Rodney looks up as John approaches. He holds out the LSD.

"Here," he says. "I fixed it for you."

XX

The third time Rodney went missing, John got a call from Radek before he could even start making the rounds.

"Is he okay?" John asked. Kid-Rodney never went to the lab without John suggesting it.

"I think you should come," Radek said, and John's heart rate instantly tripled

When John got to the lab Rodney was sitting cross-legged on the floor, back against a wall, three laptops open and arranged around him in a semi-circle. His own mini command central. He looked fine.

He wasn't fine.

"The ratios are all wrong," Rodney said without looking up. He sounded angry, frustrated — close to tears. "They're wrong and I hate them."

Sheppard looked at Radek, who was sitting on a lab stool – nearby but out of the way. "Calculations," Radek explained quietly.

Physics concepts Rodney understood. But as a kid, high-level math got completely jumbled in his head.

John crouched down to meet Rodney at eye level. "Buddy, it's okay."

"It's not okay!" Rodney wailed. He kicked at the middle laptop, sending it sliding a few feet across the floor. "I can't — I should —" He balled his hands into fists.

"Rodney, no, c'mon." John's instinct was to pick him up, to rub his back like his mother had for him when he was upset. But this was _Rodney_, not a regular kid.

"I can't do this. I should be able to do this. You said I used to. You said I should." Rodney kicked at the laptop on the far right, but the angle was wrong and the laptop merely flipped over with a small clunk. He drew his knees to his chest.

John clicked the last laptop closed, slid it away and took up its spot next to Rodney. He sat, back against the wall, his own knees drawn up as he wondered how to fix this.

XX

John takes the LSD and echoes, "Fixed it for me?"

"Yeah." Rodney tugs the scrub pants over his toes. "So you won't be mad at me anymore."

"I'm not mad at you." John sits down beside him. "I haven't been mad. I've been —" A piece of the evening's puzzle drops into place. "Your nightmare. It was about me?"

Rodney looks down as he flexes his toes under his scrub pants. "I was trying to fix something, the gate or the gate's dial, and it wasn't working. You were mad."

M5X-546. The village was about to be culled and Rodney couldn't get the gate to dial out. Four hundred lives depended on Rodney getting the symbols to lock. He was scared, flustered, and John yelled at him to keep him focused. Because John was scared and flustered, too.

Rodney saved the day — again. As soon as they stepped through the gate they were good.

John thought they were good.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"You were upset."

"I was. . . scared."

"You were disappointed. You said I should be able to fix it. You said I should stop whining and just do what you were telling me."

Jesus. "I shouldn't have said that."

"You were upset and mad and disappointed," Rodney says. "And you looked at me the same way you did when I was climbing the gate."

XX

Ronon and Teyla didn't call it an intervention, of course, but that's what it was.

John had had a feeling something was up all through dinner. Teyla and Ronon kept trying to steer the conversation to talk of childhood, to childhood sports and games, to the Great and Wonderful Things they would do if they could be 7 again.

"How 'bout you, Sheppard?" Ronon asked. "Must be something you miss about being a kid."

"No," John said distractedly. Then, "Hey, Rodney, come on, eat something."

Eventually, Ronon and Teyla dropped the conversation and just started shooting each other looks. After a few minutes, Ronon rose from the table, scooped up Rodney and slung him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Talk to him," Ronon said to Teyla. "We're going to get dessert."

John cringed watching Ronon bounce Rodney on his shoulder as he walked away.

"John," Teyla said, and waited until he pulled his eyes away from Ronon, until she had his full attention. "We are concerned."

The words were so ominous that John immediately noted all the clear exits and began planning a strategic retreat. But he couldn't leave without Rodney. Dammit. So instead he said, "Concerned?" and tried to make it sound nonchalant.

"The elders wanted Rodney to experience a second youth, to enjoy what he hadn't before. That was their gift to him." She paused. "We don't believe you are allowing Rodney to do that."

"Rodney's fine," John insisted.

Teyla gave a significant look to Rodney's plate, still nearly full. "He is not eating well," she said. "He pushes himself into adult work when he should be focused on child's play. He does not seem happy."

"Teyla," John said with exasperation, "what do you want me to do here? He's my responsibility. I'm trying to look after him and keep him safe until he's old enough again to look after himself."

"You are depriving him this gift and exhausting yourself in the process." Teyla leaned forward. "Leave him with Ronon for the afternoon."

"No, that's not a good —"

"Go, rest," Teyla interrupted. "You look like you need sleep. Let them play and you will see that nothing bad will happen to him."

It was an inviting prospect: four or five hours of uninterrupted sleep while Rodney had fun with Ronon.

"Play what?" John asked warily.

"Something quiet that will not result in injury," Teyla assured him.

From the corner of his eye John saw Ronon and Rodney return, each with a bowl of Jell-O.

"He likes to run off," John warned.

Teyla smiled, taking John's words for the acceptance they were. "Ronon will watch him."

"Sure," John said, not feeling comforted. Not feeling comforted at all.

XX

Rodney sighs, deeper and heavier than John's ever heard him, even as an adult.

"I just want to. . . ."

The words hang in the air, sentence unfinished.

"You just want to what, buddy?"

His question is met by such a long silence that John wonders if Rodney simply isn't talking to him anymore. Wonders if maybe he shouldn't.

Finally, Rodney says so quietly that John has to strain to hear him, "I just want to go back to normal."

John's stomach knots. "I know." He almost reaches out, almost pulls Rodney into a hug, but stops. Rodney McKay, he reminds himself. Not a child. "I'm trying, buddy. I'm trying as hard as I can to get you there in one piece. Just two more weeks."

"But what if it's not two weeks? What if it's longer because I haven't had a chance to —" Rodney flaps his hand vaguely. "What if this is forever?"

John feels his heart stutter a beat. That's not possible. Teyla would have said if that was possible. "What makes you say that?"

Rodney shrugs his small shoulders, rests his forehead on his knees.

"It's not — it doesn't work that way," John says. "This lasts a month. That's it."

Rodney says something too low for John to hear. He taps Rodney on the shoulder to get him to say it again. When Rodney looks up, his cheeks are wet with tears. "I just want this to end," he whispers.

And that's when John breaks.

John pulls him up and into a hug, rubbing his back while Rodney hiccups through his sobs. This was supposed to be a gift. A reward. Funfor the hero scientist who worked too hard and too long and at too much risk to himself. The elders had known that. Teyla and Ronon had known that. But John had made it torture.

_Don't get hurt. Don't be a kid._ _Grow up as fast as you can so_ _I can stop feeling that gut-wrenching guilt for not protecting you well enough — again. _

He feels as sick as he did when Rodney got injured.

Still rubbing Rodney's back, John picks him up and carries him out of the room.

In the gateroom, John pauses only long enough to say, "Lock it down."

Chuck looks up. "Sir?"

"It's past midnight. We don't have any teams off world and none are scheduled until the morning. Lock it down. No wormholes in or out."

Chuck glances at Rodney, who has his face buried in John's shoulder. He nods, says "Yes, sir," and doesn't ask any more questions.

John doesn't set Rodney down until they're directly in front of the gate. He kneels, looking at the ring from Rodney's perspective. It's huge. Intimidating. A challenge.

McKay always has loved a challenge.

"You've got two weeks left, buddy," John says. "We'd better make the most of it."

Rodney's eyes are still wet with tears and he swipes at them with the back of his hand as he looks up at the ring. John expects him to dash forward, to whoop with glee. Instead, he hesitates. "What if I fall?"

John is surprised, then realizes he shouldn't be. Because that's McKay, too — rushing headlong one minute and over thinking the next.

"Nah, you won't fall," John says. "Besides, I'll be here to catch you."

Rodney walks slowly to the ring, pulls himself up. It takes a moment for him to get the rhythm, and then he does, the steady push-pull of his arms and legs as he climbs higher and higher and higher. He laughs.

John cranes his neck to look up at him. He's got to admit, it actually looks kind of fun. He wonders how long it'll take Rodney to make it to the top.

Wonders if Chuck would keep the secret if he tried it, too.


End file.
